ᴶᵘˡʸ 3 ¹⁹⁹⁵
ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ;
"The 'ting go skrrrrrrat. Cla, cla, cla, cla, clack. Skiddy boom clack clack. And a brrr, brrr, brrrrrd, boom. Scyiah. Thun thun, thun, thun, coon. Poom, poom", one of the artists rapped in the studio and I frowned a bit while Dre and Snoop hyped him up.
"Woo! Now that's cold", Dre said.
"Fa'sho. Nigga got me scared and I ain't scared of nobody, cuz", Snoop said in agreement. "Only nigga that's ever scared me was Christ himself, you feel me? What mothafucka' you know can survive whips, a crown of thorns, dehydration, dry skin, stab wounds, and nails all in ya' body but still breathin' until you get fed up and kill yo' damn self?"
"He ain't kill himself, foo'. He just lowered his head and died", Dre corrected him.
"Exactly. He was in control of his life. Not them other mothafuckas", Snoop shot back followed by him shaking his head.
"Man, shut up", was all Dre said, giving up on the conversion completely. He knew Snoop could go on and on about it if he let him and he wasn't exactly in the mood for a long debate. He had to see if the artist was what the label needed and what better way to do that then get a second opinion from the man himself. Tupac Shakur. He put the cellphone back to his ear, "So, what you think?"
"Nigga, you wastin' my call time for that? I should drop yo' ass from the label. You can't be serious. That nigga sound like he got Tourette's. I ain't hear not one bar, just sound effects. Get him outta' my booth and get the hell off my phone", Pac ranted before ending the call, leaving Dre dumbfounded.
The rapper stretched his arms out at his side with headphones over his ears, "Yo! Mandem, wha' gwan?"
"I could be wrong but it sound like that nigga just said somethin' about yo' mama", Snoop chimed in.
Dre kissed his teeth, nudging Snoop with his elbow, "Man, get—" Dre then stood up from his chair, gesturing for the man to come out of the booth, "You gotta' go, g. This ain't for you."
"Ain't for me? You ain't even heard all I got, man", the rapper went on to say.
"But I've heard enough. Let's go", Dre shot back.
Reluctantly, the man exited the booth, continuing to mumble under his breath then finally left out of the studio but not before giving Dre and Snoop one last look.
"Damn. Pac ain't like 'em?", Snoop inquired.
Dre just shook his head, "Hell nah. That nigga hung up on me after he threatened to kick me off the label."
"Damn, cuz. For real?", Snoop asked in disbelief, shaking his head. "Well it ain't like you can't be replaced. Needa' pick some better talent next time."
Dre kissed his teeth, waving him off, "Nigga, whatever. He can't replace me. And last time I checked, you liked the rapper just as much as I did."
"DeVantè is one call away, g. Don't speak too soon", Snoop said.
"DeVantè can't produce this rap shit like me. Fuck all that. Thought you was on my side anyway."
YOU ARE READING
' 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗜𝗡 ' › D. SWING
FanfictionDon't talk, just read. First of all, I have to be honest with you, readers. I lied-when I told you I was gonna' finish that other story. Can you read? Just for tonight. Or maybe we can do something like eat popcorn and drink water or thirst after...
